


you know i dreamed about you (for twenty nine years)

by ghostblue



Series: slow, dumb show [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, the inherent eroticism of having lena luthor on speed dial, they fight they make up, they say they love each other abt seventy billion times what's NEW
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22204324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostblue/pseuds/ghostblue
Summary: "I don't think I should see you, for a while at least," Lena says, her voice careful and steady."Alright," Kara says. She can do that. She can give Lena space."But maybe-" Lena falters. "Maybe you could call?"post-crisis, kara and lena pick up the pieces of their friendship, and find themselves stumbling head first towards the inevitable
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Series: slow, dumb show [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646035
Comments: 116
Kudos: 665





	you know i dreamed about you (for twenty nine years)

**Author's Note:**

> what's a coie

Three hours after Kara brings Earth–38 back from oblivion, she finds herself hovering inside the L–Corp lobby searching for one person in particular.

-

-

She's in the DEO, making valiant efforts not to think about Lena and instead focus on the very important meeting she's in the middle of, when she decides she's had enough. She shouldn't be daydreaming, really. The DEO is buzzing with activity, and there's no shortage of tasks to hand out in the wake of an entire planet and its people instantly re–materialising. But it's been _three hours_ since their return, Kara is _tired_.

She’s told her story over and over in as much painful detail as she can bare, and now here they are hours later, arguing over the finer details instead of just appreciating the fact that they are all _alive._

It’s not like she wants recognition or a pat on the back and a thanks. It’s just that they were all dead. All of them gone without a trace and now they’re back and Kara is just–

“I’m done,” she announces without preamble, into the middle of probably a very serious and terribly important conversation that she has definitely 100% been listening to.

Fifteen pairs of eyes swing in her direction.

_Whoops._

Alex is the first to react, stepping towards her with a slight frown, grunting over her shoulder, “Everyone take five,” and the team disperses eagerly in the direction of the coffee machine with a relieved mumble, only a few curious glances thrown her way. Kelly hangs back to catch Alex’s attention and Kara watches them and aches with a familiar longing as the two of them have a silent conversation, a kiss on the cheek and a warm smile, before Kelly turns back towards the smell of fresh coffee.

“So, what’s going on?” Alex asks.

Kara drags her eyes away from Kelly’s retreating form and pushes down that violent feeling of _want,_ because it’s been three hours since she saved everyone, and she should be _happy_. The multi–verse has been saved and the Earth is back, her family is alive, and she did what she could never have done with Krypton. She saved a lost planet, and _yet–_

“Kara? Your face is doing that thing it does when you’re trying not to cry. What’s wrong?”

_What’s wrong._ Kara laughs, the sound coming out wet and angry.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m just…” she trails off, apparently far closer to having a complete mental breakdown than she initially estimated. “I think I need some air.”

Alex’s frown deepens. Any other day, Kara would poke delightedly at the crinkle between Alex’s eyebrows, solid payback for years of having the same done to her, but today she can’t find the will.

“We’re not exactly finished here, Kara. We’re still trying to determine the full effect the book had on the planet, we’ve got weird power outages across the globe, a hell of a lot of lost time to wrap our heads around and–”

“Alex _,_ ” Kara whispers. “ _Please._ ” Alex finally seems to look at her, like, _really_ look at her. Her eyes soften, she takes her hands off her hips and suddenly, she’s Alex Kara’s sister, not Alex big boss of the DEO. “You _died_. In that lost time that none of you can really feel or remember, you all _died_. I just need–”

A minute? A day? A _year_ to process?

She has felt loss more than most. The first few months after landing on Earth had been the worst, everything loud and new and overwhelming. She’d spent days hauled up in the Danvers’ house trying to comprehend the loss of her parents, her world, and her baby cousin Kal.

Kal, _Clark,_ who was alive, sure, but a stranger, an adult, and one who had become far more human than Kryptonian. Kara had lost her entire world and then her remaining purpose in one fell swoop, and she had grieved the loss of Kal like it was a death all the same. Clark didn’t need raising or protecting. He had his own family and his own name and he didn’t need Kara the way that she needed him, and that _hurt_. And then he left her with the Danvers, and Kara had grieved all over again.

As the years went on, the pain of her loss dulled down into a persistent ache that sat nestled in the space between her heart and her lungs. Twice a year like clockwork Clark would stop by the Danvers’ household to visit her, and then when he returned home again, always _without Kara_ , she would be left feeling hollowed out and alone.

Alex had cornered her after one weekend and declared her stupid for letting him get to her. “It’s not your fault he got here first.” She folded her arms across her chest. “And it’s not your fault he’s a dumb adult who doesn't know, like, how to have a relationship with you, apparently.”

“I’m not mad at him,” Kara had whispered, unsure if she was lying to herself or not. “It’s not his fault either.” Her feelings towards Clark were so complicated, and carried the weight of a lost world behind them, and Alex, no matter how hard she tried, couldn’t ever really understand. “I just wish he’d stay for longer. And maybe, just talk to me a little.”

It didn’t escape anyone’s notice that when Clark visited he rarely spent time with just Kara. Seemed to avoid it, actually. Running out of things to say to the orphan girl from a planet he’d never known.

Alex had huffed, and thumped one of the pillows on Kara’s bed. “I don’t like how upset you are when he leaves.” She thumped another pillow into the wall and glared at a spot just right of Kara’s shoulder. “I’d punch him if it wouldn’t break my hand to do it.”

Alex, Kara had found, stored her anger in her fists, and expressed her love in a level of fierce protectiveness that had come begrudgingly at first, but now came to her as easy (and as often) as breathing.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kara said, her heart already warming at Alex’s gruff frown. “It’s not really him that makes me upset.” Was that a lie? Her hands had shook a little as she pulled a pillow towards her chest to hug. "But when he’s here I end up remembering everything I lost and everything that’s gone.” Clark had grown up on Earth without the joy of knowing Krypton, without the _pain._ And sometimes, in her dark moments, she hated him for it, hated herself for having survived. “A world that’s no longer around even though I’m _still here._ ” She had blinked back tears she hadn’t realised were forming, her vision hot and stinging, and Alex had leaned back, startled, her mouth gaping wide in surprise.

Kara, it turned out, stored her anger in her eyes.

But by the time she was an adult herself, she had learnt to live with it. Found a family with the Danvers, with her friends, and to some extent, although sometimes stilted, with Clark too. The loneliness faded and her nightmares became a rarity, her trauma and guilt buried under layers of love.

A hand on her arm brings her back. “Okay.” Alex finally seems to catch on, her expression shifting deeper into concern. “Where are you going to go?”

Kara doesn’t reply, just shrugs her shoulders as nonchalant as she can, but Alex hones in on the movement.

Her eyes narrow. “Are you sure that’s–”

“Don’t, okay?” Kara says. “I know what you’re going to say. But I betrayed her, _lost_ her, and then she saved half the planet, then she _died_.” Kara grits her teeth. “She’s out there and I need to see her, Alex.”

Alex makes a frustrated noise. “You missed out the bit where she tried to mind control the entire planet, but fine. Go.”

Kara looks up in surprise, shelving the rant she had been preparing to convince Alex to let her go. “Wait, what? Really?”

“Yeah. Really.” Alex hesitates, eyeing Kara a moment longer before powering on. “I was so sure she wouldn’t help with the portal, what with her fucked up plans for world domination or whatever, and the whole _you betrayed me we’re not friends any more thing,_ but–” Alex sighs heavily, shrugs. “She saved everyone, and I was wrong. God knows I’m not done talking about Hope and her little side project, but for what it’s worth I think she thought she was doing something good, but she was also just _really_ mad at you and that apparently makes her moral compass go to shit.” Alex’s laugh is a little deranged, and she waves off the speech she knows Kara’s ready to give in Lena’s defence. “She’s Lena Luthor, so of course she was going to save the world.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alex admits. “Even if she was a bitch about it all.”

“Hey!”

Alex rolls her eyes. “What I’m _saying_ is, I think she needs you. And you need her too, right?” She looks at Kara and her expression is resigned and _worried_ in that big sister kind of way that is so familiar, and Kara knows instinctively that Alex is alluding to something else _,_ something _bigger_ –

That maybe _Alex knows._

She panics, shakes her head, “That’s not– I can’t–”

Alex stops her with a hand on her shoulder, fingers tapping a steady rhythm. “Kara, it’s okay,” she says. “I’m not asking for answers right now.”

“She’s–” Kara tries to explain, and struggles for words she’s not sure she has within her. “It’s _Lena._ ” She ends up breathing, and all the panicked energy drains out of her body as she says her name out loud.

Alex just nods. “Yeah,” she says with a wry smile and another sigh, and Kara knows her sister is letting it go for now. “Go and sort it out. There is a lot of shit she’s got to own up to, but after all of this world ending crap? I guess it can wait.”

Kara immediately sweeps Alex into a bear hug, overwhelmed and a little shaky. “I love you,” she says into her ear.

Alex grunts. “Alright, you big alien,” she says, and Kara squeezes tighter. “Ugh, go on– get out of here.”

“Thanks, Alex. Don’t call unless you really have to, please? I promise I’ll check in tonight. I love you,” she says again, then takes to the sky before Alex can change her mind.

–

–

It’s not hard to find Lena’s heartbeat once she’s in the air. The sound is strong and steady, and it’s coming from the direction of L–Corp lobby, so Kara swoops down through the glass doors and into the building before she can think twice.

And then–

There she is.

_Lena,_ alive and breathing, and Kara drinks in the sight of her, deep in conversation with two of her employees, scribbling familiar short–hand onto a jotter pad at breakneck pace. She’s barefoot and dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a plain L–Corp branded hoodie that Kara recognises as her overnight–at–the–office outfit, hair tied back in haphazard bun, higher and messier than Kara’s ever seen it before.

Someone in the lobby must see her and a ripple goes through the atrium, and then finally, _finally_ Lena looks up, their eyes connecting across the room, and all of Kara’s senses seem to focus in on Lena alone. The scratch of her pen against the pad as she finishes off her notes, the jump in her heart rate, and the sharp intake of breath when their eyes meet. And her _eyes_ , wide, bright, and piercing green, staring straight into Kara’s, and Kara freezes, helpless to do anything but stare back, utterly spellbound.

A person in the crowd coughs, and Lena remembers herself first.

“Supergirl,” she greets, with a click of her jaw and a practised raised eyebrow. The shock of Kara appearing in her space seems to be wearing off, and now Lena doesn’t look particularly happy to see her.

Not happy _at all_.

It makes sense, Kara supposes. The last time they saw each other there had been quite a lot of tears and number of Kryptonite cannons involved, and for Lena, nothing has changed. Kara can see the anger there in the clench of her jaw and the set of her shoulders.

But for her? It’s been weeks of loss and _mourning_ and–

She floats closer without thinking. Finally being at the centre of Lena’s attention after weeks of nothingness, it’s intoxicating, it strips her bare, pulls her in like a siren call. Lena’s gaze remains calculated and impersonal, right up until she reaches Kara’s eyes again, tracking the downward slope of Kara’s shoulders, and hears the soft, “Hey, Lena,” that falls off her lips.

Lena must see _something_ , because her façade cracks, and suddenly she drops her notepad, slides her pen into her pocket and pulls Kara down into a tight hug.

“ _Oh_ ,” Kara exhales, frozen only for a moment before muscle memory kicks in and she fiercely hugs Lena back. They stay wrapped up in each other for longer than probably should with so many eyes on them, but Kara doesn’t care. She buries her face into Lena’s neck, and holds tight, feeling Lena solid and _alive_ under her fingertips. “I think I needed that,” she mumbles when she pulls away, hand coming down Lena’s arm to linger on the curve of her elbow. “It’s been a while.”

Lena’s laugh is sharp. “You could say that, yes.”

“I’m so glad you are okay,” Kara whispers, hushed and fervent in the space between them, and Lena steps back as though struck.

She’s ruined the moment, Kara knows immediately, watching Lena’s walls slam back down one by one. She tries to take a step forward to close the distance between them, “Lena–” she starts.

“No. _Don’t_ ,” Lena cuts her off, her voice deathly quiet and controlled so that only Kara can hear her. “ _I shouldn’t have– that wasn’t–”_ Lena’s eyes flicker wide and manic for a moment, taking in the curious crowd surrounding them, and she shakes her head and says, _“Not here. We’re not doing this again.”_

Kara goes to reach out, her fingers trembling as Lena breaks in front her. “ _Please_ , Lena, I need–”

“ _I said not here, Supergirl.”_ Lena’s heart beats in fast staccato taps, her breathing shallow and angry, and Kara feels desperation crawling up her spine. _She can’t lose her again, not after this._

“Later? Lena, please _– please–”_ her voice cracks on that final word and Lena must see the stark terror written plainly on her face, because she hesitates, confusion washing over her features and she swallows whatever she was about to say.

There is a painful, silent pause, and Kara thinks that this might be it, that Lena will end them once and for all, but then– “Okay _,”_ she relents, and gives Kara a nod. “But not here _. Later,”_ she says, andKara sags in absolute relief.

Lena just stares for a moment, unsettled by whatever she’s seeing in Kara and it takes her a few seconds before she nods again, steeling herself as she takes a solid step back, morphing from Lena, into _Lena Luthor CEO_. She clears her throat, clasps her hands in front of her stomach, and straightens her spine.

“Thank you for checking in, Supergirl. Let me know if there is anything L–Corp can do to assist you in the coming weeks.” Lena’s voice projects evenly despite the crescent nail marks she’s digging into her palms, and Kara manages what she hopes is a professional smile in response. “If you’ll excuse us, L–Corp has a lot of work to get done. We’re liaising with National City’s power companies to restore our grid and communications network, if you could pass that on to your team?” Lena levels her with a stare, daring her to speak out again.

“Of course, Miss Luthor,” Kara says, her voice wobbling a little with the adrenaline of the last few minutes, but otherwise holding up.“I– yes. Of course. Take care,” she says, knowing she’s being dismissed for now.

She starts towards the door, the crowd murmuring in confusion as she leaves, W _hat was that? Did you see the look on her face when they hugged? What were they talking about?_ and can’t help but look back one last time.

Lena hasn’t moved from her spot. She’s watching Kara leave with a guarded expression, hands clenched, head tilted to the side in thought, eyes all but _burning,_ and Kara’s almost too distracted by the intensity of her gaze to hear Lena’s quiet whisper.

“ _Come by tonight.”_

–

–

She lands on Lena’s apartment balcony later that evening, once the sun has long since set, and the city is mostly sleeping. She’d gone back to the DEO after her visit to L–Corp, and Alex had tried to corner her but she’d dodged around her sisters questions, and then jumped at the chance to join the team that was headed out to help diffuse a riot that had started down–town. Since then she had been patrolling in wide loops around the city, soaking in the last rays of the sun and replaying every millisecond of her conversation with Lena over and over until she was dizzy and anxious with anticipation.

“Supergirl.” Lena raises her glass in mock salute from where she’s sat on the floor of the balcony, her back against the tall glass doors. She’s showered and changed out of her L–Corp sweats and into a silky looking robe, and Kara does her very best to keep her eyes _up_ , because said robe is tied in what looks like a precariously loose knot around Lena’s waist, and the sharp _v_ where the material overlaps across Lena’s chest lays against her skin in a way so _tempting–_ “Cutting it a little late, don’t you think? I could have been asleep.”

“No, you couldn't have,” Kara says, grateful for the chance to distract herself from the fact that Lena is most definitely _not_ wearing anything else under her robe. “Not knowing you.” She’s never known Lena to be asleep before midnight unless in her own company, and doubts the apocalypse would change that. But it seems to be the wrong thing to say, _again_ , because Lena blinks, and then gets to her feet and stalks closer, a little unsteady and a whole lot angry.

She fixes Kara with a glare. “Don’t mistake this invitation as forgiveness, Supergirl. You lost the right to be familiar with me somewhere around the hundredth time you lied about your identity.”

Kara sighs, “Lena–”

“Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, elsewhere?” Lena carries on as though Kara hadn’t spoken. She waves her hand around vaguely, her drink sloshing in the glass. “Does the DEO know you’re out here consulting with the enemy?” She asks. “Or is that why you here? To detain me for my villainous crimes?”

Kara rolls her eyes. “I’m not here to arrest you, Lena.”

“But you should be somewhere else?”

Kara chews on the inside of her cheek. “Probably.”

“And yet here you are. On my balcony. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Kara says. That’s a lie. She does know. “I wanted to see you.” It sounds childish and petulant, leaving her lips. “And _you_ asked _me_ to come.”

“I did.” Lena appears to sober at those words, turning contemplative. “You seemed different, _seem_ different. I suppose I was worried–” Kara looks up sharply, _hopefully,_ and Lena rushes to add on, “About the city, I mean. You’re our resident Superhero, we can’t have you going off the rails.”

“Right,” Kara says, feeling frustration bubbling under her skin. “The city.”

“Besides, we were being watched.”

“Yeah, and god forbid the public see us caring about each other,” Kara mutters.

But Lena just sighs, ignoring Kara’s frustration. She tilts her glass back to drain the last of her whisky and rounds on Kara again. “Why are you really here? What’s going on?”

“I wanted to check on you.”

“You already did that,” Lena points out. “I’m fine, as you can see.” She raises her empty glass in front of Kara’s face and sneers. “Dealing with heartbreak, betrayal and the end of the world in the good old fashioned Luthor way.”

Kara steps back. She’s had enough tough conversations in her lifetime to know when someone is tempting a fight. “I didn’t come here to argue,” she says, feeling hot and angry and upset, and horribly naive for believing Lena might want to move on from this– this _breakup–_

“But you did come here, _Supergirl_. Why?” Lena asks again.

_Supergirl._

She can’t recall the last time Lena addressed her as _Kara_ , and that realisation sends hot venomous spikes through her heart.

“ _That’s not my name_.”

It takes Kara a full second to register that it’s her who has spoken, her voice low and powerful, rough with the kind of unrestrained pain and anger she rarely expresses. But Lena doesn’t seem shocked, instead levels her with a stare, cold and unfazed.

“No, I suppose it’s not,” she says, taking a step forward, all predatory and sleek, and Kara knows she’s been goaded, that this conversation was only ever a trap. “But then again, it isn’t really Kara Danvers either, is it? Our whole relationship, built on a lie.”

“Bullshit,” Kara says fiercely, and Lena whips around at the curse.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, bullshit. It was _all_ real, Lena. Every second I was with you, it was real.” Kara feels the anger draining out of her as quickly as it came, shoulders deflating, her voice turning earnest and plaintive. Lena has never been the person she’s angry with. “I lied about Supergirl and I’m so angry at myself for being selfish like that, but I’ve always been Kara Danvers. I’ve _always_ been your friend. If you would just let me explain, just listen–”

“No you listen,” Lena hisses, stepping into Kara’s space, all of her steely composure gone in a blink of an eye. “I didn’t ask for this. You were the one that bundled your way into my life, offering friendship like I’d never known before. You were the one that pestered me for lunch dates, dinners dates and days off. _Y_ _ou_ were the one who decided that being friends was a good idea,” Lena trembles, wrapping her arms around herself, fingers gripped tight into her skin. “You didn’t have to pretend. You didn’t have to play along and agree to niceties, _Supergirl_. We could have been perfectly civil for the sake of the city without this,” she gestures wildly in the space between them. “Whatever this was.”

They stand chest to chest for a moment, riled and flushed, and Kara’s eyes drop down and up again.

_That damn robe._

“You think I was pretending?” Kara manages to say, before her hands and her lips can do something dangerous and impulsive _._

“Of course,” Lena looks away, her lie blatant. “A Luthor and Super?” She says, curling her lip and looking up at Kara again. “Holding hands and flying off into the sunset?”

“Lena, that’s not–“

“Spare me whatever reasoning you had for keeping up this charade,” she flexes her jaw. “I can imagine you all thought it was a wonderful idea? For us to be best friends? For you to keep an eye on me?”

“Maybe we were worried at first, but you _know_ that isn’t why I carried on being friends with you.“ Kara takes a desperate breath. “I _know_ you know it was real. When we were together it was–”

“ _It was everything,”_ Lena yells, and both of them freeze. Lena’s eyes go wide like she can’t believe she just said that aloud, because they’ve never– they _don’t_ –

For all this talk about honesty and truth, they’ve resolutely ignored that _thing_ between them that goes unspoken. That thing that has always been there, terrifying and breathtaking and heavy and so _certain._ That thing that feels a whole lot like–

“I’m shouldn’t have– I’m sorry,” Lena says, fast and anguished, her eyes pleading with Kara not to say anything, not to acknowledge Lena’s stumble. And it’s almost too much. Kara desperately wants to fall, take a sledgehammer to the ice they’ve been standing on, let Lena’s words hang in the air and demand to be felt. But she also knows that if it’s ice beneath their feet, then the water below them is cold and dark, too bitter for them to survive the fall. So she waits. Wills Lena to see the patience in her gaze, the certainty in her smile, the promise of the thaw that they’re both waiting for.

She lets Lena lead.

“I’m–” Lena starts in the silence, but ends up shaking her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m so angry.”

Kara breathes out and in. “I know.”

“You hurt me,” she says.

Kara nods, her shoulders sagging. “I did,” she whispers.

“You ruined us.”

_Us._ Kara blinks back sudden tears. “I know. I was selfish, and scared of losing you. And I am so, _so_ sorry. I wanted to keep things the same when I knew that they couldn’t be. And that is my fault. But when I was with you, Lena, I felt–” Kara breathes out, and looks up at where the stars are bright and clear above them. “I felt seen. Like you saw me in a way nobody else had before. Just me, just Kara. Not an alien, or a weapon, or an obligation. Just Kara.”

Lena regards her, eyes soft. “I saw you,” she says. “All I ever saw was you.” Then quietly, “I thought it meant that you saw me too.”

Kara aches. “I _did._ ”

“Then why not tell me? Trust me?”

“I was scared.”

“You fly around fighting bad guys and catching bullets every day, and you’re telling me you were scared?”

“That’s not the same. I’m invulnerable out there, but with you, Lena, I–” Kara hesitates, her brain screaming _tell her_ , _tell her what she means,_ but she can see Lena’s barely concealed rage, the scars of her betrayal sitting too close to the skin, and knows she cannot be selfish again. “I was afraid.”

Lena is silent, eyes shining as she considers Kara’s words. “Too afraid to be vulnerable with me?”

Kara’s heart breaks as Lena’s tears fall. “That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant, isn’t it?” Lena presses, turning the knife. “That I wasn’t good enough, trustworthy enough to warrant your honesty?”

Kara shakes her head. “That’s not true. It was more complicated than that, and you know it.”

“No,” Lena growls. “All I know is that I was violated, lied to, and treated like a fool, all the while being told that you’d never betray me.” Lena’s expression twists. “But you already had, and I want to know why.”

“Because I don’t owe my identity to anyone, no matter who they are!” Kara finally snaps, and Lena recoils at the heat in her voice.

Kara loses track of how long they stare at each other then. The silence is bright and loud and charged, and Kara feels every second of it acutely. _Time heals,_ Eliza had said, in a phone call Kara had made after their first fall out. _The two of you are bigger than this, stronger than this. Don’t lose hope, Kara. You need to talk to her, and let her talk to you. Something will give._

“I’m sorry,” Lena says at the same time as Kara blurts out, “I shouldn’t have snapped, I’m sorry.”

Sometimes she wonders whether it might have gone differently if she had told Lena earlier. She has idle fantasies of what it might have been like if Lena had known from the very beginning, before everything had gotten complicated, too _deep._ Maybe it would have been alright.

But then she thinks, that maybe, this has never been _just_ about her being Supergirl.

“Fuck,” Lena says airily, after a moment, and Kara lets out a laugh which surprises them both.

“Yeah. _Fuck,_ ” Kara echoes, and Lena laughs back, a strange delight on her tear streaked face.

_Something will give._

Lena looks at her then, more focused and calm than she has been all night, and she exhales a steady breath. “You’re right. You don’t owe your identity to anyone. Your name doesn’t make you who you are–” She grimaces “–and I should know that, better than anyone. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Kara says, feeling lighter, hope beckoning her heart. “And I’m sorry too, for everything.”

“I know,” Lena looks down, and then slowly, _slowly,_ reaches out for Kara’s hand and grasps tight. “I think that’s why I found it so hard, _find_ it so hard. Because I know you. I know it was real. I just didn’t want to understand why you lied, because it’s always been easier for me to fall back on anger. I have been hurt by so many of my friends, my family, and with you I thought–”

“I won’t ever hurt you again,” Kara interrupts, her voice fierce and low, willing Lena to believe her.

But Lena looks at her and shakes her head mutely. “You can’t promise that,” she says, and Kara opens her mouth to protest but stops when Lena shakes her head again and brushes her thumb over the back of Kara’s hand. “It’s okay,” she says, and when she looks back up again her expression is lighter, more playful, and Kara knows that’s all Lena is willing to say about that, and that perhaps Lena is just trying to save them from heartbreak all over again.

“So,” Lena says, her voice lilting over the single syllable. “What now?”

As simple as that. _What now?_

“I don’t know,” Kara answers, honestly.

Lena hums, studying their hands. “Well, she curses and she yells. Any other secrets I need to know before we move on, or are we all out of things to hide?”

“I’m all burnt up,” Kara says ruefully. “I don’t know about you.”

Lena eyes her for a moment, like she’s _considering_ –

“I think I am, too,” she says after a beat, and turns to look out over the city. She pulls Kara around with her, adjusting their hands until they are looped arm in arm, the world laid out before them.

“Can you believe this this was all gone, just a few hours ago?” Lena says, absently after they’ve been standing in silence for while. Kara’s been daydreaming, revelling in the warmth of Lena leaning carefully against her arm, but Lena’s voice, cool and devoid of all the anger from their fight, knocks the air from her lungs. She freezes, flashes of Krypton and Earth exploding before her eyes. “All those people, those planets, and you brought them back.” Lena turns around, and Kara doesn’t school her expression quickly enough. “Oh, god, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”

“Lena,” She interrupts, the pressing weight on her chest threatening to suffocate her again. “Can we just– I’d rather not–” She falters, debating whether to just _do_ what she wants to do, and finally, channels one last bit of Supergirl strength. “Can I just hold you for a minute?” She asks.

She’d had a panic attack once on Krypton, back when she had been too young to understand what was happening to her body, hands shaking, breath short, mind racing away from her. Astra had been the one to find her curled up on the floor beside her bed. Her aunt had approached slowly, not wanting to spook her, waiting for Kara’s consenting nod before she had wrapped her in a firm hug. _The best way, little one, is to find something to ground you, when everything else seems like too much. Find something, hold it tight, and know that it is real._

She holds her breath now, almost expecting rejection, but Lena just nods and steps forward like she’s been waiting for Kara to ask. “Yes,” she says, simple and easy, and Kara closes the distance to curl Lena into her arms.

It’s different than earlier, when curious eyes were on them, and Kara was more concerned about making sure Lena that was real and alive under her fingertips. This is _different._ Warmer, softer and everything just _Lena_ , and Kara shudders, breathing in the smell of Lena’s fragrant shampoo, Lena’s skin warm through the thin material of her robe, her heart beat solid against her chest.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“Let me fix this,” Kara says, because she can’t help herself. Because she has Lena in her arms again and that gives her the kind of hope she knows the stars are made of.

Lena exhales, bone–weary and tired against her. “Okay.”

Kara sucks in a breath. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lena echoes. “I’m tired of missing you.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t think I should see you, for a while at least,” Lena says, her voice careful and steady.

“Alright,” Kara says. She can do that. She can give Lena space.

“But maybe–” Lena falters, leaning back to catch Kara’s eyes. “Maybe you could call?”

Kara bites the inside of her cheek to contain her smile, not wanting to spook Lena with the mega–watt she’s dying to give. “Like Tokyo?” She asks.

“Oh,” Lena blinks. “Yes, like Tokyo.”

Lena had been gone for three weeks over summer, attending a bio–tech summit in Japan. It was the longest time they’d gone without seeing each other since the start of their friendship, and six hours after Lena’s flight had taken off, Kara broke the pact she’d made with herself about playing it cool, and had text her.

**_**(9.56) Kara** _ **

**_**I miss you**_** _,_ she messaged.

Lena had replied almost instantly.

**_**(9.57) Lena** _ **

**_**Is that why you’re scrolling through my Instagram liking posts from 328 weeks ago?** _ **

**_**(9.57) Kara** _ **

**_**I did that on purpose** _ ** _._

She had totally not done that on purpose.

**_**(9.58) Lena** _ **

**_**Sure you did, creeper.** _ **

Kara’s phone had dinged a second later, a notification from Instagram where it appeared Lena was deep into 2014, liking a photo of Kara grinning in front of an enormous plate of pancakes.

**_**(10.01) Kara** _ **

**_**Very funny.** _ **

**_**(10.05) Lena** _ **

**_**I miss you too, by the way.** _ **

Kara responded with ten variations of the love heart emoji.

**_**(10.17) Lena** _ **

**_**Call me in the morning? The time difference should work out.** _ **

Kara had wriggled deeper into her comforter, not bothering to suppress her grin as she sent off a quick reply.

**_**(10.17) Kara** _ **

**_**!!!!!!!** _ **

**_**(10.19) Lena** _ **

**_**I take it you’d be amenable to calling?** _ **

**_**(10.20) Kara** _ **

**_**!!!!!!!!! very amenable** _ **

The next morning, Kara had woken early to a beautiful sunrise and had reached immediately for her phone, a little nervous and a little excited. Her thumb hit speed dial.

“ _Good morning, Kara.”_

Kara let Lena’s voice rush over her and she smiled. “Good morning, Lena. Or, I guess good evening for you?”

“ _Good evening_ ,” Lena had agreed. “ _How did you sleep?”_

“Really well, thanks,” Kara said, and just like that her everything was normal. Just Lena’s voice, melodic and low, and Kara’s burning desire to know absolutely everything about her best friend’s life. “I have so many questions for you. Are you in your hotel? Is there one of those fancy chaise lounge chairs? Do you have a balcony? What’s the weather like in Tokyo?!”

Lena’s laugh was fond and kind. “ _Why don’t I start with the weather_?” She had said, and that was the beginning.

They had phoned each other once a day, every day, until Lena returned to the States. Their conversations about nothing and everything in between, and Kara went to bed each night eager to wake in the morning.

“These have been the best phone calls of my life,” Kara said on the last day before Lena was due back.

Lena had hummed, as though she was considering a serious scientific proposal, and not a dumb thing Kara had blurted out because she had little to no self control when it came to Lena. “ _Well, considering I usually spend all my time talking to boring old men and stuffy uptight investors, I suppose I can say the same to you_.”

“Yeah?”

“ _Yes, Kara_ ,” Lena said. “ _Definitely the best phone calls of my life_.”

“Good,” Kara had replied, letting a warm and bright feeling unfurl inside her ribcage.

Tokyo had been good, their friendship stronger despite the distance between them, and so Kara squares her shoulders. “I can do Tokyo, Tokyo was good,” she says.

“Okay then, let’s do Tokyo.” Lena says, carefully tracing the crest across her suit one final time before untangling herself from Kara’s arms. “You should get going, Supergirl. I’ve kept you late.”

“That’s okay, I don’t mind,” Kara says quickly, panicking at the thought of leaving Lena again, when things were finally starting to feel okay. She gnaws on her lip, watching Lena pick up her phone from the floor and slide it into her robe pocket.

“Lena?”

“Yes?” Lena turns in the doorway of her balcony, illuminated by the soft light of her apartment.

“I’m really glad– I’m just– I want to make sure you know…” Kara swallows, coming up short.

But Lena gives her an understanding smile. “It’s okay. I know.”

And maybe she does, Kara thinks, by the slight upturn of Lena’s lips, the rhythmic thud of her heart, her fingers coming to rest loose around her torso.

“Okay,” Kara says, the certainty of Lena’s gaze calming her nerves. “Good night,” she says, and with a final smile, floats gently upward and into the night.


End file.
